[center][color=seagreen][h1]Drake [color=Bisque]& Milo[/color][/h1]

[color=greenyellow][b]Time:[/b][/color][color=seagreen] Evening of the 25th[/color] 
[color=greenyellow][b]Location:[/b][/color][color=seagreen] Milo’s Penthouse[/color][/color][/center]

[color=lightgray]It was beginning to be a rather calm evening. Slightly cloudy, the perfect amount of overcast to a serene night. But in the inner mind of Drake, the evening was anything but calm. There are scant talented artists in the city that could hold a candle to someone of Milo’s caliber - so when the young lord had the idea of gifting his beloved Lady Thea a portrait painted to capture her enchanting image, few came to mind. After a brief process of elimination it came down to either Lady Zarai, who had already seen him tumble like a fool earlier, or St. Milo, a man who had recently expressed his vehement disapproval of his sister - and caused a large debate over the destruction of his latest masterpiece.

So here Drake was, at the doorstep to the man’s penthouse, about to use the knocker to ask the man a favor that hopefully would turn out well. If not, well, he had other options he could always try and reach out to. He gave the knocker three solid clacks and stood back, waiting for any probable answer with baited breath. 

The soft echo of the knocker faded into the stillness of the evening, leaving a palpable tension in the air. Moments later, the door creaked open to reveal a dark haired, rather beautiful woman in a tailored suit with her hand firmly resting on the handle of a pistol holstered at her hip. 

Her striking presence was softened a bit by the gentle glow of the lanterns lining the corridor. With her hair pulled back in a neat braid and piercing gray eyes that scanned Drake with a mix of curiosity and caution, she exuded authority with a subtle sprinkling of grace.

[color=MediumSlateBlue]“Good evening,” [/color] she said, her voice absolutely neutral. [color=MediumSlateBlue]“Can I help you?”[/color]

Her gaze assessed him, a slight hint of intrigue in her expression as she noted the tension in his posture. 

Drake met the gaze of the woman, slightly perplexed yet not fully surprised to find someone else answering the door. [color=greenyellow]”Hello. My name is Lord Drake Edwards, I am here to see St. Milo if he is available. Who might I have the pleasure of greeting this evening?”[/color] He bowed, and took a step back. He noticed her hand resting on her pistol and added. [color=greenyellow]”I assure you my visit is a peaceful one.”[/color]

Ms. Sharpe’s expression remained unchanged, her piercing gaze unwavering as she absorbed his introduction. A moment of silence lingered, the tension only emphasized by the stillness of her posture.

[color=MediumSlateBlue]“Sir Drake Edwards,”[/color] she repeated, her tone calm and measured. She did not return the bow, but her hand eased slightly from the pistol's handle, acknowledging his reassurance. [color=MediumSlateBlue]“My name is Ms. Sharpe, you can consider me Mr. St. Claire’s…problem solver.”[/color]

She stepped aside, opening the door wider with a smooth, practiced motion. [color=MediumSlateBlue]“If your visit truly is a peaceful one, then you’re welcome to wait in the foyer. I’ll see if Mr. St. Claire is available.”[/color]

With a brief, appraising look, she turned and gestured for him to enter.[color=MediumSlateBlue] “Please, make yourself comfortable,” [/color] she added, her voice devoid of any warmth yet not unkind. [color=MediumSlateBlue]“I’ll be back shortly.”[/color]

Erika moved away with purpose, her footsteps nearly silent as she disappeared deeper into the penthouse, leaving Drake to take in the opulence of Milo's home.

Drake followed the woman inside, and a short but polite [color=greenyellow]”Thank you.”[/color] echoed into the foyer. There was much little he could do other than watch her fade into the darkness and await his host patiently. All the same he took the time to walk the room, slowly and deliberately. The clacking of his shoes could be heard, as he held his hands behind his back and eyed up the decor and feng shui of the man's home.

There was a myriad of works, ones he surmised were Milo’s or perhaps someone he aspired to be. The lavish furniture was equal parts pragmatic and stylish. There was a calculated luxury at play here - one that Drake respected. So much so that he couldn’t help but speak ever so subtly into the empty foyer. [color=greenyellow]”The man sure knows his way around interior design.”[/color] Drake straightened himself after the cursory inspection and stood in the center of the room awaiting St. Milo, or perhaps the return of Erika, or some other third party. Who truly knew with this man?

As Drake took in the elegance of Milo’s home, a gentle footfall broke the quiet, drawing his attention to the top of the staircase. Descending with unhurried grace, Milo St. Claire appeared, shirtless beneath a loosely tied silk robe that draped around him with effortless elegance. His hazel eyes glinted in the lantern light, a faint smile playing on his lips as he regarded his unexpected guest with a mix of curiosity and amusement.Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Milo came to a casual stop, his robe barely hugging his shoulders, revealing the surprisingly toned lines of his chest and abdomen.

[color=bisque]“Lord Edwards,”[/color] he greeted, his tone warm and slightly surprised. [color=bisque]“This is certainly a pleasure. It’s not every night that such an esteemed guest simply knocks on my door.”[/color] Tilting his head playfully as though he misspoke, Milo amended his statement with a teasing grin. [color=bisque]“Well, perhaps it’s more common than I let on, but still, my good sir, your presence here is most surprising and welcome… especially given the events of our initial meeting. To what do I owe this honor?”[/color]

At the edge of the room, Ms. Sharpe reappeared, though strangely she did not come from the stairs, which seemed more than odd given she had ascended them just moments ago. Her gaze was watchful yet respectful, as she kept her silent vigil while Milo’s attention was fully given to Drake, awaiting his answer with an air of poised curiosity.

Drake smiled gently at the man—an air of amusement at the praise he was being thrown his way, yet he kept himself professional and poised all the same. [color=seagreen]“The candor is much appreciated, St. Milo. Tonight, I come to you with a bit of a proposition if you would like to hear it.”[/color] He paused, allowing for ample time to object, and after a few moments continued on, slowly pacing across the living space.

[color=seagreen]“I understand the altercation between us the other night wasn’t on the best of terms. I personally do not wish to carry ill wills—and I often subscribe my family to similar niceties. So today I come to you with a request, a commission, and a challenge. Which should interest a scholared artist such as yourself, shouldn’t it?”[/color] Drake grinned at the possibilities of Milo’s responses, but decided to provide more context. [color=seagreen]“You see, I am going to request of you, if you should choose to accept such a request, a portrait of someone who you can only see from a distance. No modeling session, no arranged meeting of any kind, but simply painting off of a memory of someone you’ve seen from afar. Am I catching your interest so far, my good man?”[/color] He turned and looked at the silken-robed individual, pivoting on his foot and clacking his shoes audibly on the polished floors.

Milo’s brow arched as he listened, intrigue sparking in his hazel eyes. He leaned casually against the arm of a nearby chair, folding his arms as a wry smile crept across his face.

[color=bisque]“Quite the challenge, Lord Edwards,”[/color] he replied, his tone shifting to one of genuine fascination. [color=bisque]“A portrait with only memory as my muse. You’ve certainly brought a succulent little proposal with you tonight, if I do say so.”[/color]

He tilted his head, considering the conditions. [color=bisque]“And this portrait, of someone seen only from afar… fascinating. It requires a certain artistic liberty... an interpretation rather than pure representation.”[/color] A flicker of amusement lit his eyes as he added, [color=bisque]“And I dare say, the intrigue surrounding your request sweetens the offer.”[/color]

Pausing, Milo’s gaze drifted a moment, as if envisioning the work itself, before settling back on Drake. [color=bisque]“You’re aware that memory is a fickle thing, Lord Edwards. I can’t promise you an exact likeness, but what I can offer will be as close to the truth as art will allow. I am, after all, the best in the world at what I do.”[/color] He extended a hand toward one of the nearby chairs, inviting Drake to make himself comfortable. [color=bisque]“Now, if you’d be so kind, tell me who this captivating figure is and why you’re willing to take such a… shall we say, unorthodox approach?”[/color]

Ms. Sharpe remained poised at the room’s edge, her expression unreadable, though a slight quirk of her brow suggested that even she found the arrangement intriguing.

Drake raised his hand and pointed a single finger in the ceiling as he spoke, as if revealing a grand revelation. [color=greenyellow]”Ah but my good man you are the best of the best. I shall not be too critical but I know  artists tend to take painstaking efforts to achieve perfection in their works. So that shall not be taken lightly.”[/color] He smiled. [color=greenyellow]”As for the who and the why - allow me a moment of candor.”[/color]

Drake walked towards Milo, a slow and measured pace as to not set off any mental alarms in the mind of Ms. Sharpe diligently keeping watch. [color=greenyellow]”The short answer is, well, love. To put it plainly. I am a bit of a romantic and possibly even foolhardy - so I must confess there is someone as of late who has captured my attention rather fervently. So I wish to part onto her a gift - one capturing this radiant beauty I see so vividly every time our paths cross.”[/color] Drake turned on his heel and gestured to the wide array of art that adorned the walls of Milo’s welcoming room.

[color=greenyellow]”My talents do not lie in the painted form - or any medium of drawing, sketching, sculpting, or what have you. But you, St. Milo, have a gift that not many possess. It is this gift I wish to request from you to show my appreciation of this womans natural beauty and charisma. And given the fact that I am a raging romantic, I am trying to do with so with upmost secrecy.”[/color] Drake began “talking” with his hands as if to demonstrate his enthusiasm in the idea. [color=greenyellow]”Imagine the look on her face when she sees a masterpiece in her image! I imagine that would inspire a cornucopia of emotions! Do you not think so?”[/color] The young lord took a pace back and motioned his hand in Milo’s direction, as if to physically hand him the conversation as he finally took a breath to pause.

The artist’s eyes gleamed toward Drake, an indulgent smile quirking at the edge of his lips. He leaned back, crossing his arms leisurely as he took in the young lord’s enthusiasm with a quiet chuckle.[color=bisque]“Oh, my good Lord Edwards,”[/color] Milo murmured, letting each syllable carry a playful lilt. [color=bisque]“A romantic, an admirer of beauty, and a man with a flair for grand gestures. I must say, it’s rather refreshing.”[/color] He tilted his head, his gaze alight with sly curiosity that was almost wicked. [color=bisque]“But indulge me for a moment, won’t you? For there’s a question that always captivates me when these… romantic ventures come knocking at my door.”[/color]
With a flourish of his hand, he paced a few steps, then stopped to give Drake a conspiratorial glance. [color=bisque]“What happens, good sir, if I paint this woman so beautifully… so vividly, that she falls quite in love with the painter rather than the patron?”[/color]
He raised a brow, his lips curving into a smile equal parts coy and mischievous. [color=bisque]“You see, you wouldn’t be the first to commission a portrait, only to find that the poor muse, upon glimpsing my handiwork, is suddenly swept into a vision of the artist himself…” he placed a hand to his chest with mock humility, “and not of the gallant soul who originally held her fancy.”[/color]

He drew closer, his gaze never leaving Drake’s, his voice soft but with a lingering thrill of mischief. [color=bisque]“Imagine her, gazing upon the portrait, her heart quickening at each brushstroke, her thoughts turning not to the one who commissioned it, but to the one who captured her likeness so perfectly.”[/color] Milo's smile widened, and his voice dropped to a whisper, as if sharing a tantalizing secret. [color=bisque]“Are you quite certain you can bear that risk, Lord Edwards?”[/color]

With a final flourish, Milo straightened, his expression a mask of theatrical seriousness barely concealing his amusement. [color=bisque]"Of course, I’m not guaranteeing that she'll find herself utterly captivated by my artistry. Only that such matters do have a way of... taking on lives of their own."[/color] He offered Drake a seat with a graceful gesture, his smile lingering as he awaited the lord’s response, eyes gleaming with playful  delight.

Drake took a seat, and in a brief moment of inductive thought considered the possibility. The man nodded. [color=greenyellow]”You see, Fate does have quite the way of working things out I would say. Such a thing is certainly possible. And while I would resign myself to a tinge of regret - I would also like to believe the one I’m destined to meet would not fall for another in such a manner.”[/color] Drake crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on the opposite knee while holding his hands intertwined over the front of his shin in a dignified manner.

[color=greenyellow]”If I were to be coy, sir. Would it not also fall upon the person who commissioned said piece to see the value in the beauty of a muse? If I am the one calling you to her, while you may be the talent that expresses her natural beauty - would the credit of seeing such radiance not fall onto me?”[/color] The man grinned. [color=greenyellow]”Plus I can be quite the charmer when I need to be. Although to answer your question plainly - should such a turn of events come to play without any direct intervention of your own…then I suppose I shall take such a risk. But do not consider such notions an invitation to go sweeping her off her feet. That would be my job.”[/color] Drake wagged his finger at the man. While his response was admittedly a little cheeky, there was a hint of genuine caution in the way he spoke about it.

Milo’s grin widened, his hazel eyes sparkling with coyness as he leaned back. [color=bisque]“Well, my good Lord Edwards, if you’re so certain of your charms, who am I to stand in the way of such a noble vision?” [/color] He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the game as he studied Drake’s every subtle movement with glee. [color=bisque]“Now, tell me more about this radiant muse of yours. I must know what kind of beauty warrants such a gamble.”[/color]

A gentle cough to clear his throat, followed by a slow inhale. It was almost like watching a schoolboy confess his crush, yet with much more assuredness. [color=greenyellow]”Lady Thea Smithwood is the muse we are speaking of. I have grown quite fond of her as of late - and I plan to give this work of art for her up and coming birthday.”[/color] A quick raise of his hand prompted Milo to hold any reservations for the time being. [color=greenyellow]”I know it is rather short timing. You could consider it another facet of this challenge I have laid before you. But should it prove unreasonable I can still give such a gift later down the road - whatever you need to achieve that artistic perfection the creative mind strives for.”[/color] His hand lowered back into his lap, his legs now unfolding to rest comfortably next to one another.

[color=bisque]“Lady Thea Smithwood, you say? Ah, even the name is beautiful.” [/color] He leaned forward, fingers steepled beneath his chin. [color=bisque]“Short timing, indeed. Yet urgency often inspires the most delicious brilliance. Pressure, after all, is the crucible in which true artistry is forged. Diamonds are not forged through peace, as they say.”[/color]

He let the words hang for a moment, then added with a sly smirk, [color=bisque]“But fear not, my good lord. Artistic perfection is a mistress I know well... and I don’t keep her waiting. Challenge accepted.”[/color] He extended a hand, a silent promise wrapped in a playful smirk.

[color=greenyellow]”Wise words, Milo.”[/color] Drake pondered the nugget of wisdom as he shook his hand firmly. [color=greenyellow]”Such notions will not be unrewarded. I will make sure to assign some funds in the form of a paper cheque. Or if you prefer physical cash payment, then I will make arrangements with our treasurer.”[/color] Drake smiled. 

[color=greenyellow]”I know that our first meeting was not under the best of conditions. But my goal is to help make things amiable, and try to amend any ill will my sister may have done with her…[i]ahem[/i]…creative endeavors.”[/color] Drake sighed. [color=greenyellow]”I am aware she is to meet with you. From one gentleman to another, knowing how much that piece meant to you…[/color] Drake’s gaze shifted, moving shyly off to the side in mild embarrassment before reaching back to meet Milo’s. [color=greenyellow]”…that if you could afford an extra dosage of patience and temperance for her, I would greatly appreciate it. She can be feisty, and albeit a little stubborn. But she’s a good person deep down, my sister.”[/color] 

[color=bisque]“Ah, a man who speaks of payments and amends in the same breath; truly, you are full of surprises, Lord Edwards. Paper, coin, or favor, I find all currencies... [i]negotiable[/i].”[/color] His voice dripped with playful insinuation, hazel eyes flickering with intrigue.

At the mention of Drake’s sister, Milo leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head with a casual ease that somehow still seemed calculated. [color=bisque]“Your sister, you say? Feisty, stubborn, and in need of patience? I love a challenge.”[/color] He chuckled, the sound low and smooth. [color=bisque]“Consider your request noted. Temperance, after all, is just another form of art; one I’ve practiced in... fascinating ways.”[/color] His eyes glimmered with mischief, a flicker of past tales hinted at but left unsaid.
With a final, theatrically resigned sigh, he straightened, eyes locking onto Drake’s. [color=bisque]“But worry not. Regardless of her sins against my art, she’ll find me the picture of civility. I am a professional, after all.”[/color]


There was a soft smile on the man’s face, and a charismatic glow to his features that softened at the thought of the man proposing his willingness to cooperate. Even if there was a hint of playful banter behind his demeanor, Milo seemed to present himself as any professional artisan would - if anything far more professional than what Drake had seen before. [color=greenyellow]”That you are. I suppose it is just the mewling of a worried older brother. I do tend to make sure that those within my circles are taken care of. To the best of my abilities of course.”[/color] 

Fixing his posture, yet keeping that same calm complexion about his character, Drake took a moment to collect his thoughts and recounted the arrangement they had discussed. [color=greenyellow]”So it is settled then. A portrait of the lovely Lady Smithwood, and an agreement over the scheduled assembly with my sister. I daresay you have given me everything I could ask for and more tonight, Sir Milo. Is there nary a detail or request you have of me before I go to take my leave? I would hate to take up any more of your time this evening.”[/color]

[color=bisque]“Ah, Lord Edwards, you’ve been nothing short of entertaining yourself. I’ve no demands, no requests... only the assurance that I’ll bring brilliance to both your muse’s portrait and your sister’s penance.”[/color] His tone dipped with an unmistakable playfulness. [color=bisque]“And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Lady Ariella.”[/color]

As he stood, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve, the quiet presence of Ms. Sharpe entered the room. She stood near the doorway, her gaze scanning the scene like an ever-watchful hawk. Though she said nothing, her arrival carried a clear intent: the evening’s business was coming to an end.

Milo extended a hand toward Drake, a polished smile gracing his lips. [color=bisque]“Now, my good lord, rest easy knowing that all is in motion. Consider the Lady Smithwood’s radiance and your sister’s fiery nature equally inspiring challenges for a man of my talents.”[/color] His handshake was firm yet elegant, the unspoken confidence of a man accustomed to sealing deals in style.

He gestured lightly toward Ms. Sharpe without looking. [color=bisque]“It seems the evening is ready to part us, though if you’ve any further details or musings, Lord Edwards, I’m all ears before you take your leave.”[/color]

Drake took the extended hand, feeling equal parts hopeful and refreshed that such a negotiation would go off with little to no issues. [color=greenyellow]”I haven’t any further requests, my good man. I shall leave you to the night's affairs. If all goes well maybe we could even share a spot of brandy to congratulate artistic visions being given physical form - and for the creative endeavors of men such as yourself.”[/color] He paused, and stood up, pacing towards the door as he gave the decor one final glance over. Drake pivoted on his foot and gave the man and Ms. Sharpe two distinct and individual bows. [color=greenyellow]”Good evening to you both, and thank you for your hospitality this fine night.”[/color] The young lord took his paces and left, his figure slowly fading into the growing darkness from the long set sun.
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